The Husbands of Edith Part 9

"Heavens!" exclaimed Freddie, in disgust. "You needn't do that. I've already proposed to her five or six times."

"And she--she is undecided?" cried Brock, his eyes darkening.

"No, hang it all, she's _not_ undecided. She's said _no_ every time.

That's why I'm up a tree, so to speak."

"Oh?" was all that Brock said. Of course she couldn't love a creature of Freddie's stamp! He gloated!

"'Gad, you're a lucky dog, Roxbury," went on Freddie enviously. "Money isn't everything. You're married to one of the prettiest and most fascinating women in the world. She's a wonder. You can't blame me for wanting your wife as a sister-in-law. Now, can you? And that kid! You lucky dog!"

CHAPTER V

THE FRIENDS OF THE FAMILY

Brock discovered in due time that he was living in a lofty but uncertain place, among the clouds of exaltation. It was not until the close of the succeeding day that he began to lower himself grudgingly from the height to which Freddie's ill-mannered confession had led him. By that time he satisfactorily had convinced himself that no one but a fool could have suspected Constance of being in love with Ulstervelt; and yet, on the other hand, was he any better off for this cheerful argument? There was nothing to prove that she cared for him, notwithstanding this agreeable conclusion by contrast. As a matter of fact, he came earthward with a rush, weighted down by the conviction that she did not care a rap for him except as a conveniently moral brother-in-law. He was further distressed by Edith's comfortless, though perhaps well-qualified, announcement that she believed her sister to be in love; she could not imagine with whom; she only knew she "acted as if she were."

"Besides, Roxbury," she said warningly, "it's a most degenerate husband who falls in love with his wife's sister."

They were walking in one of the mountain paths, some distance behind the others. They did not know that Mrs. Odell-Carney had stopped to rest in the leafy niche above the path. She was lazily fanning herself on the stone seat that man had provided as an improvement to nature. Being a sharp-eared person with a London drawing-room instinct, she plainly could hear what they were saying as they approached. These were the first words she fully grasped, and they caused her to p.r.i.c.k up her ears:

"I don't give a hang, Edith. I'm tired of being her brother-in-law."

"You're tired of me, Roxbury, that's what it is," in plaintive tones.

"You're happy, you love and are loved, so please don't put it that way.

It's not fair. Think of the pitiable position I'm in."

"My dear Roxbury," quite severely, "if there's nothing else that will influence you, just stop to consider the che-ild! There's Tootles, dear Tootles, to think of."

Of course Mrs. Odell-Carney could not be expected to know that Edith was blithely jesting.

"My dear Edith," he said, just as firmly "Tootles has nothing to do with the case. You know, and Constance knows, and I know, and the whole world will soon know that I'm not even related to her, poor little beggar. I don't see why she should come between me and happiness just because she happens to bear a social resemblance to a man who isn't her father.

Come, now, let's talk over the situation sensibly."

Just then they pa.s.sed beyond the hearing of the astonished eavesdropper.

Good heaven, what was this? Not his child? Two minutes later Mrs.

Odell-Carney was back at the spring where they had left her somnolent husband, who had refused to climb a hill because all of his breath was required to smoke a cigaret.

"Carney," she said sternly, her lips rigid, her eyes set hard upon his face, "how long have the Medcrofts been married?"

He blinked heavily. "How the devil should I know? 'Pon me word, it's--"

"Four years, I think Mrs. Rodney told me. How old is that baby?"

"'Pon me soul, Agatha, I'm as much in the dark as you. I don't know."

"A little over a year, I'd say. Well, I just heard Medcroft say that she wasn't his child. Whose is it?" She stood there like an accusing angel.

He started violently, and his jaw dropped; an expression of alarmed protest leaped into his listless eyes.

"'Pon me word, Agatha, how the devil should I know? Don't look at me like that. Give you my word of honour, I don't know the woman. 'Pon me soul, I don't, my dear."

He was very much in earnest, thoroughly aroused by what seemed to be a direct insinuation.

"Oh, don't be stupid," she cried. "Good heavens, can there be a scandal in that lovely woman's life?"

"There's never any scandal in a woman's life unless she's reasonably lovely," remarked he.

"Whose child is she, if she isn't Medcroft's?" she pursued with a perplexed frown.

"Demme, Agatha, don't ask me," he said irritably, pa.s.sing his hand over his brow. "I've told you that twice. Ask them; I daresay they know."

She looked at him in disgust. "As if I could do such a thing as that!

Dear me, I don't understand it at all. Four years married. Yes, I'm sure that's it. Carney, you don't suppose--" She hesitated. It was not necessary to complete the obvious question.

"Agatha," said he, weighing his remark carefully, "I've said all along that Medcroft is a fool. Take those windows, for instance. If he--"

"Oh, rubbish! What have the windows to do with it? You are positively stupid. And I'd come to like her too. Yes, I'd even asked her to come and see me." She was really distressed.

"And why not?" he demanded. "Hang it all, Agatha, it's nothing unusual.

She's a jolly good sort and a sight too good for Medcroft. He's a stupid a.s.s. I've said so all along. How the devil she ever married him, I can't see. But, by Jove, Agatha, I can readily see how she might have loved the father of this child, no matter who he is. Take my advice, my dear, and don't be harsh in your judgment. Don't say a word about what you've heard. If they are reconciled to the--er--the situation, why the devil should we give a hang? And, above all, don't let these Rodneys suspect."

Here he lowered his voice gradually. "They're a pack of rotters and they couldn't understand. They'd cut her, even if she is a cousin or whatever it is. I've give a year or two of my life to know positively whether Rodney intends taking those shares or not." He said it in contemplative delight in what he would do if it were definitely settled. "I can't stand them much longer."

"What great variety of Americans there are," she reflected. "Mrs.

Medcroft and her sister are Americans. Compare them with the Rodneys and Mr. Ulstervelt. No, Carney, I'll not start a scandal. The Rodneys would not understand, as you say. They'd tear her to shreds and gloat over the mutilation. No; we'll have her to see us in London. I like her."

"And, by Jove, Agatha, I like her sister."

"My dear, the baby is a darling."

"But what an a.s.s Medcroft is!"

And thus is it proved that Mrs. Odell-Carney was not only a dutiful wife in taking her husband into her confidence, but also that jointly they enjoyed a peculiarly rational outlook upon the world as they had come to know it and to feel for the people thereof. It is of small consequence that they could not find it in their power to be in tune with the virtuous Rodneys: the Rodneys were conditions, not effects.

However that may be, it was Katherine Rodney, pretty, plump, and spoiled, who pulled the first stone from the foundation of Medcroft's house of cards. Katherine had convinced herself that she was deeply enamoured of the volatile Freddie; the more she thought that she loved him, the greater became the conviction that he did not care as much for her as he professed. She began to detect a decided falling off in his ardour; it was no use trying to hide the fact from herself that Constance was the most disturbing symptom in evidence. Jealousy succeeded speculation. Katherine decided to be hateful; she could not have helped it if she had tried.

It was very evident, to her at least, that Freddie was not to blame; he was being led on by the artful Miss Fowler. There could be no doubt of it--none in the least, declared Miss Rodney in the privacy of her own miserable reflections.

Just as she was on the point of carrying her woes to her mother, an astounding revelation came to her out of a clear sky; an entirely new condition came into the problem. It dawned upon her suddenly, without warning, that Roxbury Medcroft was in love with his sister-in-law!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "She began to detect a decided falling off in his ardour."]

When she burst in upon her mother, half an hour later, that excellent lady started up from her couch, alarmed by the excitement in her daughter's face. Mrs. Rodney, good soul, was one of the kind who always think the world is coming to an end, or the house is on fire, or the king has been a.s.sa.s.sinated, if any one approaches with a look of distress in his face.

"My dear, my dear!" she cried, as Katherine stopped tragically in the doorway. "What has happened to your father? Speak!"